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Fault; I of II vs X-Calibur
Topic Started: May 27 2016, 04:22 AM (24 Views)
Lunatikk Crippler

Get your head out of your ass, X.

Stop crying. Stop threatening women that you know can’t physically defend themselves and fucking focus on the task at hand.

Me.

Lunatikk Crippler.

The Whole Fucked Up Show.

You call yourself the Greatest of All Fucking Time. You get that way from threatening to expose yourself and urinate on someone?

No. You think you earned that title by hurting people. You think you’re the greatest fart out of the Almighty’s anus because you have beaten everyone ever put in front of you.

You think you’re King Turd because you have crippled people in the past.

Cool. I like that side of you, X. I’d happily embrace the X-Calibur that once ran roughshod throughout the EWA, shocking the world by defeating the legends of yesteryear on his way to the King of the Ring finals.

I’d shake the hand of the X-Calibur that ruled the NYSWF, turning down every foe that stood in your way.

I’d greet the X-Calibur that struck fear and loathing into the hearts of every man, woman and child in the SHOOT Project, LEGACY, and beyond, like a brother.

Because that’s the man who warred with Harvey Knox in the very building you lost your Tag Team Titles in. That’s the man who went to Las Vegas and crippled Sean Boden.

I miss Sean’s mind. So does he.

But that’s not who you are anymore. No. Now you’re just a sack, pandering to the people. Making dick jokes and playing board games when you should be preparing to go to war. I recognize those traits, Eryk, because until Asylum de los Muertos, that was ME.

I did everything for the people. I sacrificed.

I bled.

I cried.
I put my family in harm’s way to the point where I had lost everything I loved.

I tried to be the funny guy. Make jokes. Give people noogies in actual wrestling contests.

I saw that wasn’t the way things should be pretty damn quick. So I made a change.

I became all about RESPECT. Earning it. Commanding it.

Deserving it.

I tried to earn every opportunity I could. And I DID, Eryk. After you had left the SHOOT Project unceremoniously, guess who got the first crack at Donovan King?

I did. I beat Jonas Coleman and EARNED the right to face him for the World Heavyweight Championship.

And I beat him, too.

Yet, because he was able to reverse my own hold on me, and I refused to relinquish it, I don’t get to add “SHOOT Project World Championship” to my resume.

It’s a pretty good one, but as I’m sure you’ll remind me in this cock measuring contest of ours, yours looks better. Yours features multiple World Championships.

Cool. Good for you. Greatest of All Fucking Time and whatnot.

It’s a clever name you have given yourself, but that’s all it happens to be. A name. A gimmick. A way to get people to further believe in you.

It’s because of people like YOU that respect is DEAD, X.

Let that sink in. This business used to be ALL ABOUT RESPECT. People went into that ring and fought. Shed blood. Tore skin. Earned fucking SCARS they could present in HONOR from that day forward. A token that would never leave them, never fade. A memento you could run your fingers across and smile, and think to yourself “I was there.”

You mock me. I expected nothing less from a man who dresses like a dragon. You dismiss me as a “piece of shit” that you’re going to pound into submission.

You even take your sheer ARROGANCE and DEMAND that your Tapout Title be put on the line.

And that? That’s the point in this timeline where you LOST.

That’s the point you can look back and tell yourself that’s when you kissed your last trinket, your last trophy goodbye.

That’s the point where you can look back and remember the very reason you watched the rest of the Path of the Warrior tournament on the EWA Network, instead of experiencing it first hand.

Because you’ve now given me free reign to maim. To rip. To tear your flesh asunder.

To hell with knowing who the best wrestler in the EWA is. You and I are always going to have different answers to that question.

To hell with knowing who could beat who in a clean contest, one on one. No matter what, you’d have some excuse as to why you lost.

Let’s just fight. Let’s allow anything and everything to be legal.

Let’s make things fun, with submission being the only way to win.

You think it’s just about making me tap out. Making me submit.

But you’ve opened the door to your own loss.

Loss of gold.

Loss of blood.

Loss of your way on the Path of the Warrior.

I’m no longer greedy for respect, X. I no longer care for, or want, something that passed away a long time ago. I was blind to it. I refused to believe it.

I fought for it. The idea of it. The want for it.

But I see clearly now.

There is no respect. No glory. No triumph.

There is only war. There are no winners and losers in war. Just who suffers more and who suffers less.

Is that what you want? To suffer?

Are you looking to repent on the neglect of your brothers? Maybe looking to atone for the sins you committed against Marcus Mirage? No, probably not. He saw through your bullshit from the get go.

Where is Deacon these days? Has the luckiest man in the world lost himself in his own delusions?

Certainly you aren’t fighting for Ray Willmott. You have had every opportunity to do so. In the Asylum, where you waited until AFTER I eliminated him to team up with Herr Goeren to take me out.

At Fight Night, when I was verbally roasting him in front of that precious little girl of his.

At the most recent Battlelines, where HATE tore him apart. And he lay there, quivering in pain, broken physically, mentally, and emotionally.

You won’t lift a finger to save Azrael Goeren. Not from his dangerous daughter, or the STD’s he’s trying to catch from Jada Kaine.

Because none of that benefits YOU.

You’re pissy at Stacy Vandevort because of the opportunity YOU lost. Fuck your partner. You care about the titles YOU lost. You are pissed because YOU didn’t get to pin either member of the Youth to win that World Championship that currently does NOT rest upon your mantle with the rest of them.

You don’t stand up for Ray Willmott and his family, because there’s nothing for X-Calibur to gain.

But I’M the piece of shit in this equation, apparently.

I’m PROUD to stand beside my brothers in HATE, X. I support Indrid Calder, as he is set to war with his Monster. I support NOTHING, and his opportunity to become a first time titleholder in the EWA.

And after I beat you, and I advance on in the Path of the Warrior? I get to fight my brother.

Because Indrid has already beaten Maggie McIntyre. She may not realize it yet, but she should certainly know by now that whether he’s billed from Nothing, Arizona or not, he currently makes his residence inside her head.

That’s my future, X. Tapout Champion. Path of the Warrior.

This time? You can’t go crying about Stacy screwing you over.

Because you brought it all on yourself. You wanted it this way.

Nobody is responsible for your loss this time except for you.

It’s all your fault, X.

So keep on with the HATE. HATE for me. HATE for Stacy. HATE for the Youth.

Because this piece of shit is going to take everything you hold dear.

And that’s your fault. Not mine.

Go ahead. Hurt me. Make me suffer. Grind my bones to make your bread.

What you need to realize here, is no matter what you do to me? No matter how much you hurt me?

It’s not going to be enough to keep me down.

And your buddy Ray?

He’ll get the receipt.

I’m actually glad now you let him stand on his own two feet.

It’ll be easier to mail them to his family when I’m done.
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